


so that's a no to the hate fucking

by xwannaflyx



Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe - Art School, Alternate Universe - College/University, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, accidentally sorta ace sasori, konan is the only reasonable one in akatsuki, no one takes hidan's advice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:13:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,930
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28219029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xwannaflyx/pseuds/xwannaflyx
Summary: Sasori as the only reasonable one in his friend group would like to point out the hazards and dangers of Deidara's hobbies as well as his absolute shit taste in art.(His friend group do not agree with him at all and wish that the two idiots would stop gazing soulfully-angrily!-at each other. )
Relationships: Deidara/Sasori (Naruto)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 47
Collections: Akatsuki Gift Exchange





	so that's a no to the hate fucking

**Author's Note:**

> for deidara-senpai for the 2020 Akatsuki gift exchange. i hope this fulfills your "sparks joy" criteria for the holidays!

“I’m going to kill him dead,” Sasori said flatly, looking up as there was an echoing boom from the building over that shook their own building. He glared out the window, watching the smoke pouring out of the windows of the studio floor. 

“If you wait long enough, you won’t even have to,” Konan said dryly, not even looking up from her paper sculpture. She carefully tweaked some miniscule flaw that only she could see and leaned back with a sigh, carefully stretching her shoulders. “If you wait long enough he’ll kill himself and the entire building with one of his explosions.”

Sasori snarled quietly under his breath, glaring at the rising smoke from his spot near the window. “He should at least not take the rest of us down with him,” he grumbled. With a careful shake of his head, he focused back on his own art project, eyeing the angle of the joints on his puppet with a calculating glint in his eyes. “I don’t like it,” he suddenly grumbled, leaning closer to inspect the twist of the puppet’s knuckle joints. There was something slightly off in the angle of them; it didn’t have quite the smoothness he felt laid in the movements of the professor from archaeology, whoever he was. 

“I don’t like it either,” Konan grumbled, staring at the disconcertingly familiar face of the puppet Sasori was working on. “Did you at least ask the professor if you could use his face for your art project?” she asked. She had taken on class with the third head of the department and having his flat stare directed at her all day as she tried to work on her paper sculpture was entirely discomfiting. 

“No,” Sasori replied, clearly not having even thought of that. “Art is something that’s meant to last forever. As a professor of archaeology, he of all people should understand that. I’m just making sure he remains forever.”

“Some people want to be forgotten,” Konan mumbled under her breath, turning back to her own art project. They had two weeks to get their final projects completed and submitted to the art director. The last time they had spoken to the art director, he had been a nervous wreck about how many of the art students didn’t understand deadlines. 

Sasori looked up, an argumentative glint in his eyes. “If —”

“Sasori did you see that!” yelled an all to familiar voice belonging to someone Sasori definitely wanted to punch in the face just once. 

“No Deidara. No one saw how you blew up your room and therefore probably had to get everyone evacuated from your area of the building,” Konan said dryly before neatly picking up her sculpture and carrying it to its resting place in the corner of the room. “Enjoy your lover’s quarrel. I have a date,” she said cheerfully before wiggling her fingers at an outraged Sasori’s face and exiting the room.

“It’s not a lover’s quarrel,” Deidara complained, grabbing a spare chair to sit and face Sasori. “Art just should be explosive!” he added brightly, pantomiming something blowing up with his hands with a slightly unhinged, cheerful expression on his face. 

“No,” Sasori said flatly, unwilling to even look at this idiot that was so incomprehensibly incorrect in his beliefs. 

“But Sasori,” Deidara whined, clearly gearing up for a long rhapsody on his explosion. Sasori let out a long sigh and gritted his teeth, desperately wishing he could replace his ears with the puppet’s. 

-x-

“Why don’t you just hate fuck like normal people?” Hidan demanded, leaning back in his seat and taking another drink straight from the bottle. 

“Get a fucking glass, you heathen,” Konan snapped, flinging a shotglass at him with unerring aim. Hidan yelped as he hastily caught it, knowing that even if she had been the one to throw it, she would take it out on his hide if it was broken. “And I hate to say the religious cultist is right, but he’s right. Just hate fuck like a normal person,” Konan added, turned to Sasori.

Sasori grimaced as he watched Konan’s fingers carefully and neatly fold an origami crane with one of the multitude of spare papers she always had on her. “I’m not hate fucking Deidara,” he said slowly. 

“Why not?” Hidan demanded, holding the shotglass in one hand and continuing to drink straight out of the bottle with the other. Konan fixed him with a look then sighed and turned away, clearly giving up on him. “It’s not like he’s unpleasant to look at.” He paused then grimaced, “Do you not fuck?” he added, brows wrinkled. 

“Okay, night night,” Konan said, utterly pleasant as she turned on him fist raised. With a yelp, Hidan scrambled out of his seat, dropped the shotglass on a cushion and booked it out of the room, bottle still clenched in his fist. Konan delicately uncurled her fist, checking the state of her nails, “So?” she added, fixing Sasori with a flat stare. “Why are you so determined to fight with Deidara if you aren’t going to carry the sexual tension to its conclusion?”

“There is no sexual tension,” Sasori snapped back with a grimace. Usually he didn’t mind spending time with Konoan because she really was the sanest in his lot of friends but since she had started dating that orange haired whatever his name was, she had gotten unbearably romantic and sentimental. “There’s just a disagreement in what art is and should be.”

“Carefully there, darling,” Konan said sweetly, baring her teeth in a challenging smile. “It’s not like paper lasts forever.”

Sasori grimaced. Arguments with Konan never ended well; mainly because she made sure to end them rather decisively and dangerously. “I disagree with you sometimes,” he said hastily, hoping to divert that augment before it happened, “we’re definintely not going to fuck.”

“God no,” Konan agreed with a delicate shudder. “Not if we were the last remaining people on earth.”

Sasori hummed his agreement. Konan was a good friend and a great partner for art projects but they would never date. Not unless they felt like killing each other. “Deidara is...” he trailed off in consideration, realizing that the analogy he had been meaning to draw wasn’t quite going to work.

“Not bad to look at,” Konan supplied with a sly smile. She matched his antagonistic gaze with a subtle tilt of her chin and lift of her lips. “He’s sweet and doesn’t seem like he would keep you from your art projects and if you occasionally exercised I’d worry less about you turning to wood right there on your stool like one of your puppets.”

Sasori hummed again, hoping that Konan would not read the negative in it and let the topic go. She fixed him with a long stare, but didn’t say anything further. Konan simply didn’t understand because she was addled with her new relationship with that poli-sci major. Just because she managed to walk through the gulf of incomprehension in a political science major to an art major didn’t mean that the gulf in interpretation of art could be discounted. 

“By the way,” Konan said suddenly, a dangerous glint in her eye. “Do you often make puppets with faces of people without asking them?” Sasori, remembering the art project from his second semester in which Konan had unknowingly been a hand model for, hastily stood and walked out of the room. 

-x-

“So should we hate fuck?” Deidara asked suddenly in their completely empty studio. 

Sasori, for the first time in his life, actually fumbled his art project and dropped the incredibly delicate joint for his puppet on the ground. 

“Sasori! Sorry!” Deidara exclaimed, dropping from his chair to the ground. He knelt by the broken joint, hands fluttering uselessly around the broken pieces, too afraid to touch them in case it would make it worse. “Shit, I didn’t think you would actually drop it! Sorry!”

“Did you speak to Hidan recently?” Sasori asked slowly, also dropping to his knees next to the broken pieces that had once been a crucial part of his final project that he had spent the past five hours on. He was going to kill Hidan. No, he was going to tell Kakuzu that Hidan had stolen his money and watch Kakuzu kill him. Maybe he would bring him back to kill him again. 

“He just mentioned is all,” Deidara said with an awkward laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Does hate fucking require that both participants hate each other?” he added suddenly. 

Sasori, now firmly resolved to figure out how to bring Hidan back to life to kill him again after Kakuzu did and bring Konan into it, shook his head. “Deidara, we aren’t hate fucking,” he said with deep sigh. He carefully began to pick up the pieces of the joint. It looked like none of the actual material had shattered and it had only come apart in the weak sections. He should be able to weave it back together and somehow save his last five hours. 

“Is your problem with the hate or the fucking?” Deidara asked abruptly, expression strangely uncomfortable. 

Sasori squinted at him suspiciously once he had all the pieces picked up and carefully placed on the padded work surface. “Why?” he asked, finally, watching the way Deidara squirmed under his flat stare. 

“Or with me?” he blurted out before his face turned quite close to the shade of Sasori’s hair. 

Sasori sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers.  _ Fucking Hidan _ was going to die as many times as unnaturally possible. “The only problem I have with you is your belief in what is quality art,” he said with a sigh. He sat back on his heels, creating some space between the two of them. “And I don’t believe in hate fucking in general. Besides, anything that Hidan thinks is a good idea should be avoided at all costs.”

Deidara, uncharacteristically, fiddled with his hands, stretching and flexing the digits a couple of times. “Okay,” he finally said, voice a little too quiet. 

Resigned to the entire shitty situation and cracking by the second from the vulnerable uncertainty on Deidara’s stupid features, Sasori grabbed Deidara’s collar. After checking that none of his other projects would be ruined from this, he yanked him closer until their lips were a simple breath from each other. “Don’t listen to Hidan,” he snarled, his lips almost touching Deidara’s with each movement. Deidara stared blankly, eyes huge on his face. “He’s fucking stupid and we’re not  _ hate  _ fucking, got it?”

Deidara, who had returned to normal color, flushed bright red again before nodding frantically and knocking their skulls together. “Okay,” he squeaked, before hastily clearing his throat while rubbing his forehead. “No listening to Hidan. Not hate fucking. Got it.”

When Deidara leaned forward again, Sasori blocked him with a scowl. “I still have to fix the hand joint. I have a final project worth half my grade due on Friday. If there’s anything happening, it’s not happening until Saturday afternoon,” he said, practical to the last. 

Despite his expectations, Deidara sat back on his heels with a wide smile on his face. “Okay!” he agreed cheerfully, cheeks still red and a wide smile stretching his lips. 

Sighing deeply for what felt far too often for this week, Sasori rubbed his temples as he stood to continue working on his project. “Your taste in art is still shit,” he added, because he refused to let Deidara have the last word.

“Sasori!”


End file.
